I do believe this child will be observant, this one inside who seems to feel every wall as for memory’s sake. As he takes a heel now and runs it slowly out and down toward my ribs is how he’ll use his eyes in restaurants. He’ll watch people and know. Maybe he’ll be my writer.
Maybe that explains my lack of anything to say. Rather than writing, I’ve never been more okay with just being, even though the being means tired and throbbing veins or 4 slices of pizza then a grocery list. Sometimes the being means Ian running to me and saying he’ll never leave me. Sunday he said, “wherever you go, I go, too.”
I smile at a hug today and know tomorrow will be good, too, even though his leaving is an expected moment of pride and humility, loss and gain all at once.
Yesterday I made Isaac cry, the one who slips so quickly into maturity. He saw how mad I’d become at the way they cleaned their room, making a tower of junk in the corner to get the job done quickly. I soak them in, enjoy being mother, and then I lose it over ‘hero guys’ at the bottom of the block box. The being is easy, but the being joyful isn’t always.
I decide to take us to the park as part of repentance.
The wind blows our hair and gives us chills while the sun warms us in healing ways. The park makes us instant friends with other families just coming to be. Isaac is missing his four front teeth and looks about as goofy as he possibly could.
A gorgeous 6 year old girl runs to the top of the slide where he courageously swings his body in a flying leap. She calls down to him, “How old are you?”
“I’m 6!” he says. “Me too” she smiles, “but I’ve only lost one tooth.” He consoles her, immediate connector. She thinks he’s so cool.
I turn invisible on the bench – just being, but ‘mama’ isn’t my only name.
Jude calls it anyway, “Mama! Watch!” He’s been in some amazing occupational therapy concerning senses and dealing with fear and anger. His own therapy has been my own. He swings his body out over two poles that make a slide. His arms go up in the air.
“Be careful, Baby!”
“I know. Yes ma’am.”
Then he runs back up to do it again. A month ago would have looked nothing like this for him. Or for me, our progress creeping glacier-slow.
Sometimes, though, we do the most steady moving in the stillness. Eyesight develops right now in my womb. This week he can see light shining through my skin.
Consider what it means to have Christ-Esteem,
the many names He gives.
Be still and know God – and thereby, who you really are.